


When the Wall Falls

by EudociaCovert



Series: The Best Path [14]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Then The Fire Nation Attacked, Child Soldiers, Difficult Decisions, Gen, Longshot would very much prefer it if there was less talking, Violence, War, War With Actual Consequences, Zuko and Longshot's Very Bad No Good Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22654459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EudociaCovert/pseuds/EudociaCovert
Summary: Looming danger. Hard choices. Harder revelations. The Fire Nation is here. Part 14 of 'The Best Path' series.
Relationships: Jet & Longshot (Avatar), Jet & Zuko (Avatar), Longshot & Smellerbee (Avatar), Longshot & Zuko (Avatar), Smellerbee & Zuko
Series: The Best Path [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/258244
Comments: 131
Kudos: 784
Collections: Best of Avatar: The Last Airbender, Finished111





	When the Wall Falls

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: We're back to Kings of Nowhere levels of dark. Top end of the 'T' rating. Zuko and Longshot's actions are not sugar coated, and there's some disturbing personal history discussed. If you think this might bother you, please skip to the end notes before you read for spoilers to these scenes.

The first time the wall shakes Zuko doesn’t understand.

Longshot, a good ways ahead, jerks his wagon to a stop immediately and stands, attention caught. They’re close enough to be in the wall's shadow; the massive form has begun to eat the sky. Zuko can see Farmer An’s house if he squints, clinging to Ba Sing Se’s defense like a limpet to a docked ship.

Then Longshot sits down hard and wretches at the reins, cutting sharply into a field of tall wheat. The wagon wobbles and strains, but he manages to turn it around before slapping the reins down hard. He’s waving furiously as he passes Zuko, a clear _follow me_.

And then there’s a massive _crack_ of impact that shakes the very earth, an overpowering grinding which fills the fields. That’s when Zuko realizes what is happening.

The Fire Nation is here.

They’re attacking the wall.

Foot on the lip of the wagon, gather up the reins and _leap-_

-land on the wood poles the harness attaches to, straddling the ostrich-horse, draw dao-

-sit, slice through the leather holding her to the wagon and hold on as she leaps forward, freed-

-cut the reins shorter and sheath the blades, tug her around, teeter for the single moment as she regains her balance, and then-

The earth shudders beneath them, and they _run_.

He gains on Longshot without the weight of rice that means _nothing_ now, trying to focus on bridging the distance and not on how that horrible noise won’t _stop_.

They’re only about ten wagon lengths apart, nearing the edge of the wall’s shadow, when Longshot’s wagon hits something in the road, a rock or a dip. The back wheel flies into the air, and when it comes down the wheel breaks.

The ostrich-horse goes one way, screeching and dragging the broken wagon into the fields and Longshot goes the other, tumbling to a stop in the middle of the road.

“Longshot!” The archer’s head shoots up. Zuko reaches his left hand down and braces. Longshot pushes himself up and takes a couple running steps and then Zuko’s there, his fingers secured around Longshot’s wrist and Longshot’s grip tight around his. A mighty tug as the archer leaps and then he’s astride behind Zuko, his free hand clutching into the cloth over Zuko’s stomach.

“We aren’t going to outrun them,” Zuko admits, teeth gritted.

He can feel Longshot turn to assess behind them. He turns back, sticking his hand into Zuko’s field of vision and pointing to the right.

It’s as good a plan as any. Zuko urges the Ostrich-horse to turn. The sound of the dirt road under her talons changes into a muffled clobber, wheat swishing around her knees.

Something to the sound changes, the grinding climbing in pitch and the cracking dulling in tone.

Zuko chances a glance to the side. He can see it, the cloud of dust and debris, the falling bricks, then the head of a massive black drill, spinning, encroaching.

The wall has been breached. The war has found him.

The sound stops. Starts again, as the drill begins to retreat. Dread creeps up Zuko’s neck, into his fingers, drying his tongue. He can see it in his mind’s eye, the armored and battle ready troops of the nation his father leads standing in formation. Just waiting for the drill to pull out enough for them to come flooding into the Earth Kingdom’s last standing stronghold.

Longshot must see something he doesn’t like because he wraps his arms tight around Zuko’s middle, whistles ( _get ready)_ , and tips them over the ostrich-horse’s side.

Zuko lets the reigns go, lets Longshot control their fall, lets himself be rolled into the tall wheat and held flat to the ground.

A few minutes later there is silence. And then the feet.

It isn’t nearly the loud marching Zuko had anticipated. Brow furrowed he shrugs off Longshot’s arm and risks rising high enough to catch a glimpse at what’s happening. They’re still much too close.

It isn’t an army. It’s a single regiment, mostly clogged around the massive hole tussling with a group of burly men in Earth Kingdom uniforms. About twenty of them have broken off, racing down the road.

What kind of battle plan is this? Twenty men might be able to take the farm workers, but even with the drill once they reach the inner walls-

Unless they aren’t _going_ to the inner walls.

“It’s a battle of attrition,” Zuko says, his own voice sounding distant in his ears. “They aren’t _trying_ to breach the next wall. All they have to do is burn the fields. They’re going to destroy all the _food_.”

And that’s when the men begin punching fire into the crops, when the smoke begins to curl.

Longshot’s hand clamps down on his shoulder, vice like. When Zuko looks over something has broken open in the archer’s eyes. “Put it out,” he rasps.

“What?”

His fingers tighten further. “ _Zuko_ ,” he says, the name pronounced like a bad omen. “Put it _out_.”

There’s no time for the shock, for the spike of terror and sudden crashing horror. They aren’t nearly far enough away to be safe from a brush fire, and Longshot’s arms, his hands, they’re starting to tremble. Zuko moves to a sitting position, straightens his back, closes his eyes. He reaches, catching the spreading flames with his inhale, and, exhaling as he moved his arms around then down towards the ground in front of him, feels the flame snuff out.

He hangs in that moment, eyes closed. He doesn’t dare to open them.

But then Longshot’s letting him go. Zuko looks up and in one swift motion the archer’s standing, bow up and string pulled back, arrow notched and then _loosed_.

Zuko sees it hit. He can’t tell if the arrow sinks into the soldier’s heart, or the shoulder, or the _throat_ because Longshot has grabbed his hand and tugged him up and they’re running, hunched in the wheat for cover.

“Jet,” Longshot says, his voice like a hammer in Zuko’s head. “Smellerbee. They’re behind that wall. Fight for them.”

“These are my _people_ ,” Zuko croaks. Longshot lets go and turns on him, eyes alight with a savage broken _anger_.

“So am _I_.”

“That’s different, I can’t just _choose_ who-”

“I’m like you,” Longshot interrupts, and then with toxic venom spits “I was born in the _Fire Nation._ And if you don’t help me now, _our family,_ who are _Earth,_ are going to die.”

It feels like something is rupturing. Zuko can’t even process what those words really mean, what’s happening in front of him or inside him, but he can feel himself lose footing, everything that had seemed stark and understandable now murky and unknown. He can’t catch the edges of his fraying thoughts, and before he can stop it a terrible new alignment sprouts, grows, killing everything else. And then he _knows_.

There is no nation. No fealty. No way back home. Only his actions, previous and current. Just people he cares for and their _attackers_. Only one hand outstretched after a life of scraping for recognition, for survival. Four people who’ve stood by his side and nearly an entire nation that would rather see him dead than see him succeed.

Uncle.

Smellerbee.

Jet.

 _Longshot_.

With shaking hands, he pulls the Blue Spirit mask out of its place in his robes and slips it over his face.

He nods and feels part of him die.

Longshot nods back. More people are coming, more fires are burning.

They get to work.

\--

In the end Zuko only fells one soldier. He’d stuck to putting the fires out before they can spread and trying not to think about the sound of Longshot’s arrows leaving his bow when the soldiers investigate. They keep low, keep moving.

He only intervenes once, at the very end, when Longshot had stumbled after a tricky shot and a second soldier jumps out of the wheat, coming in too fast, too close. Zuko throws the man back with a nasty slash of fire and before the soldier can stand again Longshot’s last arrow sinks into his eye socket. Zuko tears the mask off his face and retches, but he doesn’t throw up.

There’s only one man standing at the breach. With a mighty movement he brings the earth up to close it.

Longshot picks the mask up holds it out for him. Zuko shakes his head, feeling sick and hot. “I don’t want it anymore.”

Longshot considers for a moment before dropping it on the ground. He takes Zuko’s wrist much too gently and leads him back to the road. Zuko has no idea how long it’s been since they started, or how many soldiers they just-

They jog towards the inner wall, looking over their shoulders every other step. No one else comes.

“How?” Zuko asks finally, unable to hold the words in one more second. He feels like he’s hanging off the edge of something, and he has no idea how to pull himself up. “How do you know?”

Longshot lets him go and shrugs his quiver off his shoulder, reaches in to grab something at the very bottom. He flicks a tightly folded square of paper at Zuko, who catches it. Unfolds it.

Uncles face stares back at him, and his own. His name is spelled with the wrong characters, and all the wrong crimes are listed. He remembers Longshot returning to the table right before they met Uncle’s rebels for the first time, handing Jet a stack of wanted posters. But not this one.

“Did you tell Jet about me?”

Longshot shakes his head no.

“Why?” Zuko manages. “Why keep my secret?”

Longshot shrugs and doesn’t answer. It is a bit of a dumb question, considering. Slowing just a bit, Longshot holds his hand out. Zuko considers the poster. He could destroy it, burn it right now, but that doesn’t feel fair. Zuko hands the paper back. If Longshot wants leverage, he can have it.

“Does Jet know that… you’re…”

Another shake of the head.

“I don’t understand. Why are you in the Earth Kingdom? How’d you fall in with _Jet_?”

Longshot is silent for a long moment. Eventually he speaks, his voice low and scratchy, as if the few sentences he’d said during the fight had been enough to strain it. “The Yu Yan Archers.”

Oh.

“You were a prodigy. They enlisted you early.”

“I was seven. First mission. What they did to that village. What _I_ did. Ran after, found a river. Took off the uniform, couldn't stand it. Tried to drown myself.” He turns his head so Zuko can’t see his face. “Too shallow. Breathing water hurt. Jet found me there, bawling. Thought I was a survivor.”

“And then what?” Zuko doesn’t know where his anger comes from, but it’s suddenly present, leaping in his gut. “He asked if you wanted revenge and you said ‘yes please’?”

Longshot looks over at him, eyes unfathomable. “He said if I shut up and followed him he'd take care of me.”

After that, no matter how Zuko tries, Longshot refuses to say another word.

\--

The gate is shut when they reach it. A man on top of the wall aims his bow and bellows at them to stop where they are.

“We’re-” They’re what? Civilians? Earth Kingdom? “We’re not them!” Zuko yells back. “Let us back in!”

Another voice starts yelling from the other side, too muffled to make out the words but elegant in it’s desperation. The guard leans back to listen before cupping his hands around his mouth to yell down to Zuko. “Got any friends in here?”

Zuko swallows, nods. “A boy named Jet! Hook swords, messy hair. A girl named Smellerbee!”

“A _girl_ named Smellerbee?” The guard repeats. There’s indignant yelling from the other side of the wall. His face turns red, and he makes a quick gesture to someone unseen. The earth rumbles as the earther gait is cracked open, just enough for them to squeeze through single file. Zuko goes first, feeling tiny and powerless between the two slabs, knowing that with just one move an earth-bender could-

Then there’s a hand reaching towards him, snagging in his shirt and jerking him forward and into the open. Jet slams into him, and the shock of it makes the realization of what is happening (arm secure around his neck, shaky breath warm on his cheek, he’s inside, the gate has slammed closed again, they’re safe, he _made_ it safe, Jet is _hugging him_ ) hard to process. A smaller hand finds his and squeezes hard. He looks over to see Longshot bent over hugging Smellerbee who’s latched to the archer’s waist. It’s her hand holding onto his. The arm Jet isn’t hugging Zuko with is stretched out to Longshot, hand fisted in his shirt right over his heart.

“I’m so glad you’re both okay,” Jet says. He sounds nearly reverent.

Longshot taps against Smellerbee’s back and nods at Zuko. Jet steps back only to grab both him by both shoulders. Solemn, smiling, sincere, he speaks.

“Shi. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Zuko chokes out.

And with those words something finally _snaps_ in his mind and he crumbles to the ground.

**Author's Note:**

> Graphic depictions of violent death.
> 
> Blunt mention of a child suicide attempt (method said and incident briefly described but not expanded upon).
> 
> Loss of consciousness caused by mental strain.


End file.
